


Foreign Fun

by RHoldhous



Category: Fire Emblem: If | Fire Emblem: Fates
Genre: F/M, Interracial Relationship, Smut, mature - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:26:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27872257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RHoldhous/pseuds/RHoldhous
Summary: Queen Camilla of Valla is ensnared by a foreign king. mature/smut/warning for tags
Kudos: 7





	Foreign Fun

**Note: This story is a work of fiction. It has many content of adult nature. If you do not want to read such content, please close your browser window or press the convenient back button.**

**warning for tag: cheating, interracial**

* * *

The negotiations for that day ended in failure once more.

They all watched the foreign delegation excuse themselves from the throne room, escorted by the Vallan guard towards their assigned chambers. Camilla watched with an unreadable expression on her face, whilst sipping her tea. Her husband, Corrin, the King of Valla, was off conferring with the representatives from Nohr and Hoshido, ostensibly referring to the audience that had just ended. Everyone who was left in the room could see it plain as day: the foreigners had not been impressed, which left Corrin in a bit of an awkward situation.

If he could not manage to wrangle some sort of long-lasting agreement with this foreign nation, then it would reflect rather badly on his position as King.

"I wonder if I'm doing something wrong, I wonder?" Corrin asked, later in the darkness of their bedroom.

"Hush, my love," Camilla said. "It is just a matter of finding the right leverage—sometimes. If there's something Garon was good at, it was exploiting a weakness."

"Er… I don't think I want to act like father in this instance…"

"Of course not," Camilla said, giggling. She showered her husband with kisses on his neck. "But perhaps… Hmmm…"

"Camilla? Something on your mind?"

"Oh no, it is nothing. Anyway, take care to get some good sleep, my love. Perhaps tomorrow will be a better day."

Camilla turned the problem over in her mind. It was rather unorthodox in her role as a queen, but even her husband knew she was never going to fit the part of a model queen. She was thus determined to help her husband with her own means, though she did not yet know how.

"Come, Your Majesty, please sit," said the man, later that week. Her brother had suggested that the very next negotiations be postponed, and that a grand tour of the Kingdom of Valla would be held to honor the delegation, along with a tournament of might and other festivities. Camilla was pleased to see that Leo was working to advance his own plans that would help Corrin indirectly, much as she was doing.

She was currently in the quarters of the delegation head, a private room set aside for royalty. And it was fitting, as the man sitting in front of her was the sovereign of his own faraway kingdom. Any favorable impression that could be made upon him now would reflect very well on future relations.

Camilla sat at the offered seat with elegant grace, her expression betraying nothing. It was rather unusual to be invited by the delegation head like this, but perhaps this would be a way to exert some influence in favor of Corrin.

She studied the man in front of her. The man had a physique that was larger and more defined than it seemed at first. It was almost like looking at any number of the low-ranking grunts serving in the army, like that vile reprobate Hans. He was not overly handsome, nor a homely sort, but he was very distinct and unforgettable. There was that aura of great masculinity hidden behind silken cloth and studded clothing, to which Camilla felt more than slight apprehension. It was slightly intimidating to sit so close to a man who might have eclipsed her own brother and the Hoshidan King in terms of physical appearance—and heavens forbid even her own husband. It was fortunate that the man had a good, sensible head on his shoulders.

She was resolved to treat this meeting with him as a battlefield like any other.

Unfortunately, things didn't go quite as planned.

Not only had she let the drink and the mood get to her mind, making her forget her dignity as scion of Nohr and Queen of Valla, and quite above all, forget the very reason she had even come here in the first place; she had also fallen into a rapturous sexual funk together with the foreign king.

In other words, they had come together in their drunkenness to fornicate.

First of all, it was entirely the drink's fault. That damned drink, that liquor that the King had brought out.

"A specialty of my homeland," he explained in his deep, rumbling voice. "I am told… that Nohrian and Hoshidan tongues have taken quite a liking to it."

Camilla had seen nothing wrong with having a cup being poured, of toasting to peace and good relations between their nations. After all, that was what she was here for, right? The drink had been sweet, but stiff, and hardly something that would floor a seasoned drinker like her. But as more and more of the drink poured down her throat, as their conversation turned from polite meanderings about surface matters towards words more intimate, something in the atmosphere changed. It was as if a pleasant haze had settled on her mind, and she hadn't even been aware of it.

All she knew was that she had suddenly sidled close to the King, far too close for propriety between two sovereigns, _married_ sovereigns.

The talk became bawdy and unfiltered, a horrifying prospect had she still been right of mind. But for the both of them, the drink had gone right to their heads, and there was no escaping the collision they were each hurtling towards.

"I am told…" she said, as if she were merely discussing the weather. "That the men of your homeland have astounding cocks."

"Ah, you have been told correctly, my dear queen," he replied smoothly, after downing another shot. "Why, beneath these royal robes is a manhood that has unhorsed many a proud maiden, not least of all my lovely wife, and all my various concubines."

"Oh?" she said, in a challenging voice. She fluttered her eyes at the man, his liquor-raw breath filling her nose with its intense scent. "We at Nohr can boast much the same. But let these eyes judge for themselves."

"Oh, my Queen, it would be foolish of me to expose a secret that rightly belongs to my homeland. If I were to agree to this, then surely you must also agree to bare another of your secrets."

"And that is?"

The king looked down pointedly. "Are you aware that many songs have been sung of Queen Camilla's twin 'knockers', as is the slang of my countrymen? I am curious to see if song preceded fact, or if it has only been an embellishment."

"Oh, my boobs are a sight to behold, you can be assured of that. Well, tit for tat—if you show me yours, I'll certainly show you mine." The absurdity of the situation escaped both of them entirely.

"Then please, indulge yourself, Queen Camilla," the king said, as he unfastened straps on his trousers. She could see his tremendous bulk beneath the fabric of his loincloth, which he was able to unravel quickly until his cock sprang out, already hardening in the air, jutting upward with the force of a shot arrow. Camilla's eyes widened as she beheld the masterpiece of manliness, staring in shock at how he was certainly more blessed than any man she had seen before.

It should have been taboo to stare at another man's cock so boldly, let alone comparing it in her mind to her husband's. Corrin's was certainly wanting, as were all others she had seen before.

"How is it?" the king asked. "I imagine it is all that you expected—and more? Come now, be honest."

"You are indeed… splendid," Camilla hedged. She continued to stare, as if mesmerized, at the thick, girthy cock, its length lined by angry veins and exuding a smell so ferocious that it made her addled mind a whole lot dizzier.

"You appear not to be content with merely looking, my queen," the man said. "If so, I invite you to touch it, maybe even do more perhaps."

Camilla swallowed, but no protest came to her mind. The image of this thick, black cock, its width easily dwarfing her wrist, was so overwhelming that it was difficult to think straight. She reached out and grasped it gingerly, coiling her slender fingers around the base as if it was a new weapon.

The king sighed. "Your touch is heavenly my queen. I approve!"

"The rumors do you little justice," Camilla whispered. At this moment, all thoughts of her duty, her husband, and anything else had fled her mind. All that was in her mind was the thing in front of her, this massive, splendid cock, wreathed in the full power of Man at his apex.

"Go ahead, I give you permission to do more, my queen," the man said next, with a grin. "I have seen many a woman behold my iron tower and fall right to their knees, their hearts and spirits bowed by its majesty. You would not be the first woman, nor less the first queen, who looks at this big, black cock and think only of touching it; of putting your mouth upon it to pleasure it as only a woman can, to make of your lips a lovely tool through which my royal scepter achieves bliss, and thence be blessed by a rich serving of hot, semen soup down your gullet. I know such thoughts are swirling in your mind, or am I wrong?"

Camilla could not deny that it was exactly what she wanted to do. This was a cock that belonged to no ordinary man, and was therefore extraordinary by association.

She leaned forward, kissing the flared crown of his cock, then flicked her tongue out to taste him. He tasted of sweat and old perfume, of tobacco and the underlying hint of something that was so… manly. The sheer strength of his essence seemed to seep into her mouth through her tongue, shooting straight into her brain. She moaned as fluid started to ooze from her lower lips, stimulated by the taste, scent and feel of his cock. She slid his length across her forehead, her tongue gliding down the underside and leaving a long, wet patch of her spit on its surface. She tasted his ballsacks, each large and hanging like ripe fruit, swirling her tongue around each. Then she slobbered over the other side of his penis, bestowing her royal spit on his pecker until her lips kissed his swollen tip. She moaned like a common street whore.

"Yes, that's it… You do your country proud, my queen," the king said agreeably. "The way you use your tongue is so masterful… I can see now why your husband treasures you so much. I will certainly think better of him. But perhaps, I will think more of him after I see how you guzzle down this black cock down your lovely throat. Would that be agreeable, your highness?"

To such a request made in earnest, how was she to refuse? She happily opened wide and swallowed his cock inside her mouth, pushing him farther and farther back into her throat. Her tongue worked to pile him lavishly with her lubricating spit, anointing him until his ebony tower shone proudly with Camilla's saliva. She slurped and sucked, licked and squeezed, her fuzzy mind fully intent on pleasuring this foreign intruder inside her mouth. She was gratified to see that her usual techniques were doing wonders on the king, though it was clear to see that the seasoned sovereign was faring far better than her husband, who should have cum by now. But the man did nod approvingly as Camilla worked to deepthroat the king, pulling out all the stops to prove she was better, to prove she was worthy of this cock. Her competitive streak, once a terror on the many battlefields in her past, now came back to the fore as she worked fervently on his cock. Still, there was a lot more of his dark meat than she could tolerate, with his royal crown practically buried inside her gullet, choking her. She could see her lips were still only halfway down his length, this being a far better measure of his superiority over her husband, whom she could take to the base without complaint.

The king smiled and chuckled with a knowing look, which filled Camilla with a certain kind of rage and embarrassment. But try as she might, she couldn't get him inside her throat without struggling, leaving her slobbering liberally on his length, but nothing more.

"If you will permit me," he said gently, in his deep reassuring voice. With cock still in mouth she looked up and saw the man baring his chest, divesting his royal garments until he was sitting almost bare-naked before her. Beholding him like this she could see the sheer promise of power in his rippling muscles, of the strength that exuded from every pore of his black skin. Still, this man who would seem to be an epitome of violence had a gentle look on his face, tinged with a fierce intensity in his eyes.

He patted her head, then took off the clips binding her purple hair. One after another he tossed them aside, some clattering loudly on the floor behind her. Never did it occur to her that some of these clips had been expensive gifts from Corrin, proof of his love, and yet the king had divested these from her with a careless air. Her hair now lay in many messy strands, a far cry from the prim, cold queen she was supposed to be.

"Brace yourself," he whispered, grabbing hold of her now free-flowing hair. "I shall invade your pretty little mouth with great force—but I have faith you will endure. You will endure, won't you, my sweet little queen?"

She glared; who was he to belittle her? He chuckled again to see her defiance. He gathered up her tousled tresses in his hands, pulling on them as a rider might with a wyvern before flight. Then, in one motion he pulled her head down on his cock, while simultaneously pushing upward with his hips.

Stars bloomed in her head as she felt him shoot through whatever invisible barrier had been keeping him half embedded inside her. He was able to invade her completely, shooting the remainder of his length through her oral cavity with nary a fuss. Before she could gather her wits about her, he had withdrawn, pulling back and pushing her out, though only until his tip was barely at the back of her tongue. He allowed her to take one, struggling breath before he pushed back in again.

Back and forth, he repeated the motions, grunting as he did so, leaving Camilla's face a complete mess of mascara, sweat, tears and free-flowing spit. His whole cock was like a furnace poker burning inside her, but it did not feel unpleasant. It felt good, very good, to be treated so crudely, so masterfully, by a man who exuded confidence and manliness. He continued to take charge of his movements, ignoring the choking noises she made, utterly oblivious to the struggle in her gullet as it expanded to accommodate his length. Here she was completely in his power, practically violating her mouth with his cock, degrading her. And yet she felt pleasure bloom in her mind, felt the heat between her loins.

"By the gods your mouth is a treat!" the man said, swearing in an ululating voice as he moved his hips. Camilla was practically just a sex toy in his hands, something only fit for his own pleasure. He made it very clear to her that he was in charge as he packed her mouth full of his meat. "Nohrian bitches really are something else!"

She wasn't able to anticipate the great surge that erupted from his cock until the very last second. He had shoved his cock as deep as he was able. Then she felt it—a searing heat trickling through her gut, like she had been doused in some fiery spell. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as the paradoxical pleasure hit, her cunt pushing out loads of juice as the king inseminated her gut with his royal seed. She was so blindsided by the sudden-ness that she could not protest this brazen act: the gall of this man, to treat her like his own possession? It felt so arousing to be held down against her will, her throat filled to capacity by his meat, as his seemingly endless orgasm kept on going.

Finally, he withdrew his cock from her mouth. Strands of her spit hung off his shaft like in great thin bridges as she gasped for air. But he wasn't done. As his cocktip cleared her mouth with a loud _pop!,_ she felt a spurt of cum shoot right into her mouth, filling it with the taste of his hot, bitter seed. Then, free of her mouth, he moved his cock back and forth, slapping her cheeks with easy impudence before shooting the rest of his orgasm directly on her, giving her a facial she would never forget. The magnificent black cock was like a fountain that spurted out nothing but hot, sticky cum that formed a great spiderweb all over her beautiful face. He made sure to stain her radiant hair with his color as well, as if to ensure that the smell would sink deep into the roots, never to be removed.

As she sat there, panting, her mind still racing from the unbelievable event that had just happened, the man smiled and said, "Well done, my queen. And now, it is time for 'tit and tat'. I showed you my cock and you certainly gave it a slutty showing that it deserved from a whore like you; but now I will have _you_ , your dirty wet cunt begging for black cock, your breasts, your _everything_."

She said nothing, and could do nothing. How could she? Her mouth was clogged up with his thick cum, which was hard to swallow in its entirety, leaving her to enjoy the simmering taste on her tongue. And her body was too far gone, had been aroused beyond the limit of her perceptions. The part of her mind normally given to battle lust was now seized by a very different kind of lust.

Thus, she stripped off her clothes, every single article of royal clothing, emblematic of her status as Queen of Valla, thrown to the ground and forgotten. She was as naked as any whore and quite literally jumped on his cock with the same eagerness of one.

"That's my bitch," the man said in praise. "I told you, didn't I? No woman will ever refuse a ride on my tower. Now let us see if you can hold on to yourself, or be 'unhorsed', so to speak."

"Unhorsed…?"

"Everyone who's ridden me has always been unhorsed," he said. "A cheap bitch like you won't be any different."

The barb was cruel, and would have sparked a reaction of outrage from the former Princess of Nohr, were it not for the cock-craze gripping her mind. She felt the pressure of his cock jutting into her as it spread her labia, thrusting fully deep inside her cunt in one smooth stroke. When she sank to the base, her thighs resting square on top of his, she felt full; far fuller than every single one of the times she had made love to her husband. The feeling of him almost splitting her apart was indescribable, as was the pleasure that started to rise when the man gripped her wrists, pinning her to him while his hips began pushing upwards to make her start bouncing up and down on his cock.

"Big! You're so…! So… Big!"

"I thank you for the compliment," the man said easily, his muscles pumping from the exertion of reaming her pussy. She moaned and screamed, utterly unashamed of the undignified sounds she made as the king smashed into her womb at a greater depth than her husband had ever managed. The realization that this was uncharted territory for her, that she was almost virginal in this respect, sent her careening to an early orgasm. She collapsed on top of him, her sweaty body sticking to his, while the man kept up his thrusting pace.

The King took advantage of the position to rub his face between her breasts, savoring the taste of her sweat and the feel of her warm boobs pressed against the sides of his head. Camilla's mature body was almost plump, yet had lost nothing of the sexual appeal that had defined her before marriage.

"It truly is a privilege to be inside the great Camilla of Nohr," the king proclaimed, with glee. "Even if you're just a bitch like any other woman. How is it? Have anything to say? Or are you too far gone?"

"Don't… be… to… oh! Ohhh…! Sure… haaah… of your… self…!"

"I think not," the King said, rebuffing her protest smoothly. His hands wandered her body, pressing and caressing all the spots he knew to make a woman fall from his experience. At his touch, Camilla crumbled, falling to pieces with every consecutive thrust, unable to contain the myriad feelings soaring through her at this absolute, indisputable domination of her body. She clawed at his chest in futility, biting and thrashing on top of him like a beast trapped in tethers. But the man continued to pump her pussy with renewed rhythm, weathering her attacks with remarkable ease. As time passed he kept on asking her, asking if she was still there in her mind, seeing if she was on the verge of submitting.

"Are you there, my queen?" he asked.

"Unnnggghh… Ghaaaah…!" Her face, twisted completely by the pleasure gripping her, still had the energy to glare at him, her last dregs of defiance.

This he readily smashed open as he pushed her face against his in a kiss, planting his wet, sticky mouth against hers in a kiss. She tightened her pussy in response, unable to deny the rapture that his relentless rutting was squeezing from her body. She was soaring to new, unknown heights, places her husband had never taken her to, feeling sensations that only this strong, black man could give her. She kissed back fiercely, not regretting for one second her blatant, impulsive infidelity, that she was cherishing the kiss from this foreign magnate as if he were her husband in truth; and in a way, perhaps he already was. Perhaps her heart had, in some intangible way, kept true to itself; but there was no denying that her body and her mind had been captured so easily by this apex of masculinity, putting her firmly in her place as a breeding tool, someone only fit to pleasure his cock. Her submission was sealed when she threw her hands eagerly around the man's neck, her tongue joyfully intertwining against the King's as she approached orgasm after orgasm.

A full fifteen inches of raw, black meat scraped her insides, scooping her fluids out in a great gushing wake. His thick, pulsating meatrod hit all the good, pleasurable places inside her, each spark of pleasure sending her mind into the heavens. As the loud, slapping sounds of their crotches slapping together in mindless abandon increased in crescendo, so too did the king's imminent orgasm.

For this the man gripped onto her buttocks hard, pinning her completely down on his cock, as if to prepare to seed her insides to full capacity. But he needn't have bothered, as she was equally as eager to have him breed her, to feel him plant his cum all over her insides, perhaps even fertilizing her with a bastard. She could feel her fetishistic desire for this scandalous union spring out from her mind, infecting her with a treacherous fire that kept on going and going. She pumped her hips up and down, her pussy clamping down on him in a vice grip, determined to have her creampie.

"Ahhh, that's excellent… Very excellent. And you can no longer hear me yes?"

"Hnnnghhh… Haaah… Hnggh…"

"Good," he said, with a wide smile. "That is very good. Now that you've had your fill of this filthy, foreign black cock, now's the time to pump you full of my royal seed; prepare yourself, bitch." He was no longer pulling any punches; no longer speaking to her with the respect accorded to a queen and fellow sovereign. She was a bitch in truth now, and even if she had the capacity to understand his words, she would still not have refuted the title he bestowed upon her.

He crammed her rich, moist cunt full with his cock, reaching all the way to the entrance of her womb, before he came, unleashing a torrent of his rich, fecund seed right inside the Nohrian woman's deepest core. There was nothing better in life than savoring the feel of inseminating some high born and turning them into cock drunk bitches, their minds utterly slaved to his cock. Ropes of thick cum jetted continuously inside Camilla, sating her as no other ejaculation had ever done before. Her body instinctively knew that it was fulfilling its biological mandate: a primal function instilled in it since the dawn of time. That she was only feeling it now, in the arms of this powerful black man, was telling enough of her previous experiences. Her body knew, by sheer instinct alone, that this one had excellent genes that deserved to be propagated, that it was only the most logical thing to accept his seed and thereupon bear his children. And so an orgasm ripped into her, turning her mind into a great puddly mush that would not recover for a long time.

As she lay unconscious on top of him, the king studied his latest acquisition, a conquest he had not anticipated, but which he welcomed all the same. She was so beautiful, her cunt so delicious and tight, that it felt wrong not to indulge. And indulge he did, using his cock, still hard and erect, to plunge into her cum-drenched insides for another ride. Only this time, he would be moving for his own pleasure.

All told, Camilla would spend almost the entire night inside the chambers with the king, her body carefully molded through passionate mating so that she would never forget this wonderful black bull or his equally impressive cock, which claimed her womb at least five more times.

* * *

Days passed, and events continued on as decreed. Camilla kept to herself mostly, avoiding the king and subsequently her husband's meeting with the former out of necessity.

The after-effects of her infidelity still reverberated in her mind, and she was hard-pressed to clear it free from the shameful conduct she had willingly embraced. It was far easier to clean out the smell of his seed on her body (though it never went away, hence the liberal use of perfume). Harder still was the other effects the king's lovemaking had imprinted on her—Corrin had told her she looked far more radiant and beautiful now than ever, as if her submission to black cock had unlocked in her a form more glorious than any before. Yet to acknowledge that was to accept the facts, and that was preposterous.

Still, she could not avoid him for long. The negotiations demanded her presence, and she suffered his gaze as best she could, and tried not to think of calloused, black-skinned hands roving over her pale body, sending shivers up her spine. When she was back at her bed she was left so very horny, and had no recourse but to masturbate—and not to Corrin, her rightful husband, but to the black bull and his powerful cock.

"You're joking," she said flatly, as she came into his room the very next night. An invitation had come, and she had accepted, if only to tell him off and threaten literal bodily harm if he ever entertained any unworthy thoughts. But before her righteous fury could be unleashed, she had walked into a room to see two from the Hoshidan court on their knees, their naked, pale smooth skin glazed with the king's seed. Those were the ninja Kagerou, and the priestess Orochi, their backs turned to her, their mouths buried deep in the man's balls.

"Ah, you came, just as I expected, my queen." A sly look came to him. "Or is it, my 'concubine'? Come, join your fellows and service me."

"This is absurd!" she protested, though she wilted at his intense, penetrating gaze.

"Come, you bitch," he said, with icy tones. "Let us not waste time with trifles."

"I'm not your concubine!"

"Oh, but you are," the man said. "You lost your right to be anything else when you took a ride on my cock. I told you, didn't I? That any woman would be unhorsed by my cock. And that you have been, Queen Camilla, no matter how much you deny it. I can see the torment in your eyes, the longing behind the revulsion. You can never forget me, or my cock. To be without me would be torture. Now, the easiest thing would be to come and be my concubine in truth, but I do not want war with your nation yet. Instead, you can be my concubine in secret, just as these two, and any other of your fellows who want to challenge my tower. I will foster a good relation with Valla, as your husband desires. And I will certainly spend more time here, to strengthen our bonds. But when I will it, you will come to me. You will go down on your knees, like these two, and serve me. And if I deem you worthy, I will take you to my bed and make love to you with such fury that you will see nothing but white for the rest of the night, as I pump your dainty little womb with prime seed.

"You can refuse if you want. You only get one chance, bitch. Refuse, and be assured you will _never_ see me again. _Never_ again to feel this cock pierce your insides and turn you into a cock-drunk whore. Never again to be happy as any other bitch I fuck. To be always frustrated to the end of your days, stained by the memory of me, but unable to enjoy me at all. That will be your fate.

"So what will it be?"

Queen Camilla, her robes pooling around her feet, bowed and fell to her knees, to crawl all the way to him. She settled between her fellow whores. She looked up at his massive rod, which cast such a long shadow on her face. Then she dutifully kissed the tip, as any good slut should do for their masters.

* * *

**Story commissioned by anonymous, thank you. A reminder th** **at the story is _commissioned_.**

**If you'd like a story commissioned, feel free to contact me here, or on fanfiction.net under "The Ruff Pusher".**


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